How I Traveled Europe on 900€ Month Without Feeling Broke
When I told people I was slow traveling through Europe on just 900€ a month, they raised their brows. But here’s the truth—I wasn’t living off crackers or sleeping in train stations. I felt light, grounded, and honestly… abundant. You don’t need to be rich to live well abroad—you just need to be intentional. This is how I made it work, without sacrificing the moments that made the journey magic.
I Prioritized Low-Cost, High-Quality Destinations
Not all of Europe is pricey. I chose cities like Tbilisi, Sofia, and Kraków—places rich in culture, WiFi-ready, and with dreamy cafés that didn’t charge €8 for coffee. A slower pace, a smaller city, and lower cost of living made it all feel doable.
Landing in Tbilisi, I was struck by how easily life flowed. My favorite café served endless pots of tea for the price of one Lisbon cappuccino, and the WiFi was faster than many coworking spaces I’d tried elsewhere. Sofia offered tree-lined boulevards and cozy bistros where I could work all afternoon without being rushed. And Kraków? It wrapped me in medieval charm, with coworking cafés tucked into courtyards where the hum of students mixed with the sound of church bells.
These cities aren’t just affordable—they’re livable. They offer the richness of European history, the depth of culture, and the comforts digital nomads need, but without draining your budget. Choosing smaller cities also shifts your rhythm. Life feels slower, more intentional. You notice details: the smile of a baker, the calm of a tram ride, the quiet corners of a library.
Budgeting as a nomad doesn’t have to mean compromising. Sometimes, it’s about choosing the places that give you more—more atmosphere, more connection, more beauty—for less money.
Low cost doesn’t mean low value. It means spaciousness to actually enjoy the life you’re building.
I Stayed in Hostels, Sublets, and Cozy Guesthouses
Forget fancy Airbnbs. I booked longer stays in female dorms, off-season guesthouses, and even found short-term sublets through Facebook groups. My housing budget averaged 350€ a month—and each stay felt like a story, not a sacrifice.
In Sofia, I stayed in a tiny guesthouse run by an older couple who insisted I join them for morning coffee in the courtyard. In Kraków, I found a sublet through a Facebook group and ended up with a little apartment above a bakery. And in Tbilisi, I stayed in a hostel with a rooftop terrace, where evenings turned into impromptu dinners with other travelers.
What I learned is that “budget” doesn’t have to feel bare. It can feel rich in connection, filled with stories, and infused with authenticity. Staying in hostels meant late-night talks with women on their own journeys. Guesthouses meant meeting locals who opened doors to traditions I never would have found alone. Sublets gave me the grounding of a home, even if just for a month.
Luxury is not always marble lobbies or private villas. Sometimes it’s the laughter of strangers who become friends, or the smell of bread drifting into your rented kitchen.
These choices kept my costs low, but more importantly, they gave me a richer experience.
I Cooked Most of My Meals (and Romanticized Every One)
Markets became my favorite places. I’d shop for local bread, fruit, and fresh herbs, then make simple meals in hostel kitchens or tiny apartment stovetops. Think: warm veggie stews, pasta with olive oil, or breakfast yogurt with cinnamon and apples.
In Tbilisi, I wandered through the market stalls, baskets overflowing with walnuts and pomegranates, and carried home enough for a feast that cost less than a latte in Paris. In Sofia, I discovered small spice shops, their jars stacked high with paprika and cinnamon, and I sprinkled them into simple one-pot meals. In Kraków, I bought apples from street vendors and sliced them into yogurt, making mornings feel soft and slow.
Cooking wasn’t just about saving money—it was about grounding myself. It gave rhythm to days that could otherwise feel untethered. Stirring a pot of soup while rain pattered against the window reminded me that home can be created anywhere.
Romanticizing these meals made them even sweeter. Lighting a candle in a hostel kitchen, using a scarf as a tablecloth, or playing music as I chopped vegetables transformed simple food into ritual.
Eating this way proved something important: abundance isn’t about price—it’s about presence.
I Took Buses, Trains, and Walked… Everywhere
I skipped flights and embraced land travel. Overnight buses, regional trains, and endless walks not only saved money—they gave me stories. I got to see real life between the destinations, not just the tourist maps.
One overnight bus from Sofia to Istanbul was rough, but it gave me a window into local rhythms—families boarding with blankets, roadside stops filled with fresh bread and tea. A regional train from Kraków to small Polish villages brought me face-to-face with landscapes I’d never find in a guidebook. And some of my favorite memories are simply long walks through city streets, headphones in, letting a place unfold block by block.
Slowing down travel in this way reshaped my relationship with time. Flights felt like skipping chapters in a book, while buses and trains let me read the story all the way through. They also connected me with people—seatmates sharing snacks, grandmothers telling stories, fellow travelers laughing at delayed departures.
Budget travel doesn’t just save money; it opens doors. Walking instead of hailing a cab means finding hidden courtyards. Choosing the bus means seeing the countryside. Every step and mile became part of the journey, not just the logistics.
And in those moments, I realized: the journey isn’t wasted time—it’s where the magic actually happens.
I Used Local SIM Cards and Free WiFi Only
I stopped paying for expensive roaming and learned how to live with just a local SIM and café WiFi. I downloaded maps offline, batch-worked content, and scheduled calls during coworking sessions. It simplified everything—and made my phone feel less urgent.
In Kraków, I walked into a corner shop and bought a prepaid SIM for the price of two coffees. In Tbilisi, I learned to live with patchy café WiFi, timing my uploads during strong afternoon signals. In Sofia, coworking spaces became my base for video calls, while evenings were for offline journaling.
At first, it felt inconvenient. I worried about missing messages or not being constantly available. But soon, I realized it was freedom. My phone no longer buzzed endlessly. I was more present in conversations, more aware of the streets I walked, more attuned to my own thoughts.
Living with less connectivity didn’t mean disconnecting completely. It meant creating intentional boundaries. I worked in focused batches, then let myself step away without guilt.
The bonus? I saved money, yes—but I also saved my attention. And that might be the most valuable currency of all.
I Tracked Every Euro (But Gave Myself Joy Money)
I used a simple budgeting app to track food, transport, and housing—but I also set aside €50/month for pure joy. A new notebook. A spontaneous museum visit. A good glass of wine. Because budgeting doesn’t have to feel like punishment—it can feel like freedom.
In Tbilisi, my joy money bought me a pottery class where I sat with local women and shaped clay into something lopsided but beautiful. In Kraków, it was a ticket to a Chopin concert in a candlelit hall that left me in tears. In Sofia, it was a notebook from a tiny stationary shop that became my constant companion for months.
Tracking expenses kept me grounded, showing me exactly where my money went and keeping me from spiraling into stress. But joy money reminded me why I was doing this in the first place. It gave me permission to play, to explore, to indulge in small luxuries without guilt.
Budgeting on the road is not about restriction. It’s about alignment—spending with awareness, saving where it matters, and creating space for delight.
Because freedom doesn’t just come from what you cut back—it comes from what you allow yourself to savor.
Closing Thought
Traveling Europe on a budget didn’t feel like restriction—it felt like intention. I lived fully, without overspending, by choosing presence over pressure and moments over things. If you’re dreaming of doing the same, I promise it’s possible. You don’t need more—you just need to live with heart.
